


Lifeline

by milkhye



Category: TOMORROW X TOGETHER | TXT (Korea Band)
Genre: Androids, M/M, Slow Burn, Taehyun is an android and Beomgyu takes him in
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:21:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26377201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/milkhye/pseuds/milkhye
Summary: Coming home from class, Beomgyu finds an android one day, abandoned in a dumpster.The android’s eyes flash open, large and hazel-shaped.His heart skips a beat.
Relationships: Choi Beomgyu/Kang Taehyun, Choi Soobin/Choi Yeonjun
Comments: 53
Kudos: 110





	1. Chapter 1

It’s late at night, the sky darkening to an inky black, and rain hitting the pavement with enough force to make Beomgyu pull his jacket closer to his chest, huddling against the cold. 

Trudging through the muck, shoes and socks entirely drenched in light of what meagre shelter his umbrella offers, he wonders just how rotten his luck could be— having not only missed the last night bus after his evening classes, but having to brave the treacherous walk from campus all the way to his apartment in the rain. 

He can’t help but think that it was his fault for not choosing to live on campus.

It had been an expensive decision, finding a place on his own rather than rooming like all of the other kids did— but he had thought that it would be seen as a mark of independence— something that showed he really was capable of taking care of himself among all the bad luck in his life. 

But as he walks back to his apartment, battling against the strong rain and wind, water splashing against his legs, he finds that inkling of regret creeping up on him all over again— reminding him that maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all. 

Was this all worth it? Did he really have anything to prove?

Shaking his head, he forces himself to move forward. No- now wasn't the time. 

When he finally makes it to his apartment building, he pulls his umbrella down with a sigh of relief, arms sore. With not a single other person in sight, he allows himself to take a slightly longer breath, leaning against the door as the water droplets roll off his pant legs onto the paved floor. 

He looks briefly at the time. Ten o'clock. 

He closes his eyes.

Pushing back his dark hair, he finally takes out his card, shaking it dry in preparation to scan it against the building receiver. 

_Just another day. Just another night. What was the point of it--_

Suddenly, a sound emerges from the dumpsters next to the building. 

Jumping, Beomgyu fumbles with his card, almost dropping it, before turning around.

He waits for a few seconds, heart pounding.

Perhaps it was someone waiting to mug him— or worse, murder him _just_ as he came home after a long day of classes. He wasn’t usually this paranoid; some would even say a little too relaxed at times, but anything was possible this late at night.

But after a few moments, there’s still no sound.

Eyes flickering back, he finally relaxes, chalking it up to either a stray animal, or his fatigue after a long day of classes.

Silently, he thanks his senses to decline the offer from his classmate to attend a night-time party after class.

He takes out his card again, letting out a sigh.

That’s when the dumpster _moves_. 

Snapping to attention, Beomgyu instinctively holds his arms out, heart caught in his throat.

“Who’s there?” he asks, voice coming out slightly higher pitched than he had intended.

Swallowing, he stands there, waiting, until his question is followed by a strange whirring sound, almost like a whine. 

He freezes, unsure what to do. This time he wasn’t imagining things. 

Slowly, he puts his card away, cautiously pulling open his umbrella again to check out the source of the sound. 

As the weak whine continues, his feelings of fear begin to be replaced by something different— perhaps caution, or concern.

He’s not stupid— he knows the risks, but somehow something doesn’t seem quite right— the ruckus doesn’t seem to be from some murderer waiting in the shadows, or something that’s going to attack him with a premeditated plan. 

It sounds like something that needs help.

Walking hesitantly over to the dumpster, he hears the whining sound again— more insistent this time, and slowly, he opens the lid.

At first he sees nothing— just the pitch black garbage bags spread out within the dumpster.

Then he catches it— the pale colour of something protruding between the bags. Frowning, he leans closer, squinting his eyes…and almost yelps when he realises it’s an _arm_.

Stumbling back, pulling his umbrella close to him, he almost books it— runs for the hills, abandoning all to erase the image inscribed within his mind.

Because it couldn’t be— a decapitated arm lying in a dumpster right outside _where he lived_ , just as he was starting to think that maybe he could do something right for once in his life. Heart pounding, he wonders why he had chosen to live by himself instead of sharing a dorm with his friends.

 _Right— that’s how horror stories start, you idiot!_ he berates himself, as he scrambles to take his phone out to call the police. Fumbling with the screen, he almost drops it, unable to keep a steady grip amidst the fear seizing his body. 

Then the arm moves— twitches almost robotically, and his eyes widen, fingers coming to a still on his phone. 

What?

Blinking rapidly, as if not believing the sight, he inches closer.

The arm moves again.

Slowly pocketing his phone, Beomgyu leans forward, umbrella pulled tight against his face in case he needed to use it as a weapon.

“Hello? Is anyone in there?” he asks, voice slightly trembling.

There’s no response.

He reaches forward, and pushes some of the garbage bags to the side. More of that pale arm is revealed, almost tinged blue from the cold, and he realises as he continues to push, that it’s connected to an _actual body_.

Setting his umbrella up against the dumpster so that he’s able to use both arms properly, he keeps pushing until suddenly a face emerges, rolling slightly to the side. His eyes widen.

It’s a boy. 

The shock of red hair is the first thing he notices, startlingly bright and unnatural in the dark dumpster, yet falling over the other’s face in an almost manufactured way— meticulous and perfect. 

The only thing he can think about after that is how _beautiful_ the boy is.

He doesn’t think it’s a word he had ever really used to describe anyone before, but it was true. The boy had an angelic face, almost like it was sculpted by the gods— with a high angled nose, defined jawline and smooth, pale skin, eyes fluttered shut like he was merely a mannequin resting in a storage closet. 

The only thing that brings Beomgyu back to his senses is how _deathly_ pale the boy is, lying against the garbage bags in only a simple white shirt and pants.

Even if he can’t see goosebumps across the other’s skin, Beomgyu can only imagine what it’s like, if even he can feel the effects in a layered hoodie and jacket.

Eyebrows knitting together, he wonders how the boy had ended up here. Had he simply had nowhere to go, or did someone…abandon him here? And if so, who would be so heartless to do something like that?

In a rush, he reaches over and pulls the boy out, hugging him close to his chest as he does so. The boy is cold— almost alarmingly so, and he takes it as a sign that he doesn’t have much time before he freezes to death. 

Hauling the boy over his shoulder, and picking up his umbrella, Beomgyu quickly takes out his key card and lets himself into his apartment building.

He can only hope that he has enough time.

**

Setting the boy down down across his couch, pulling a warm blanket over him, Beomgyu quickly moves over to the kitchen to prepare some hot water.

Glancing back nervously towards the boy, he wonders again just how the boy had gotten into this situation, to warrant being thrown into a dumpster like that. 

Should he be worried? 

The area he lived in wasn’t known for crime or anything like that— in fact, it was one of the safer neighbourhoods in the city; something he had carefully factored in when choosing his apartment.

Still, Beomgyu was glad that he _had_ found the boy, instead of running away like he had planned originally. Otherwise, he doesn’t know what fate the boy would have met as a result of his cowardice. 

Taking a deep breath, he pours the hot water into a cup, before moving to set it on the table in front of the couch. 

The boy doesn’t stir.

Kneeling slightly, Beomgyu decides to take a closer look at the boy, lying angelically against the cushion, face like marble, eyelashes fanning shadows over his cheeks. His skin is still pale, but considerably less blue than before— he takes that as a good sign.

Resting his cheek on his palm, he studies the boy a little longer, chewing his lip in concern. When he had searched earlier, the boy didn’t seem to have any sort of identification on him— seemed to have nothing, in fact, except for the mere clothes on his back, which were simple and nondescript.

But roughly speaking, the boy seemed about the same age as Beomgyu— perhaps a little younger, although it was difficult to tell with his eyes closed.

He wonders for a few moments whether there are any other signs he should look out for, before he loses himself in the other’s serene expression, and his thoughts inevitably circle back to how _pretty_ the boy was.

There it was again—since when had Beomgyu started using words like that?

Rising to his feet, Beomgyu moves to unzip his backpack, trying to wave the thoughts away. He was just embarrassing himself at this point. 

Moving over to the table, he spreads his books across the surface, before sitting facing the unconscious boy. He figures that he could at least get some work done before he has to deal with the situation in the morning. 

Tucking a curly hair behind his ear, he pulls his sleeves down, allowing himself to bask in the warmth of the fireplace. After a few minutes of idle reading, flipping through the pages of his books, he hears a slight whirring. 

His eyes snap up.

Strangely, the sound seems to be coming from the boy— but rather than like the whining he had had earlier, closer up it seems to be more like a….mechanical kind of whirring.

Beomgyu frowns, watching.

A moment of silence passes.

Then the boy’s eyes flash open, large and hazel-shaped, and he falls back.

“Whoa!” he exclaims, heart skipping a beat as the boy stares back at him, blinking rapidly, before sitting upright, blanket falling from his shoulders. 

He doesn’t know what to say— his heart caught in his throat, as they stare at each other.

The boy is even more doll-like awake, his eyes wide and deer-like, facial proportions almost like a character out of a manhwa. Beomgyu watches as the boy’s pink lips part, and his breath almost catches when he speaks.

“Hello."

Beomgyu stands up quickly, placing his hands against the table.

“Y-you’re awake!” he exclaims, before wincing at his own volume. 

Blinking slowly, the other nods.

"Who are you?”

“I-I’m Choi Beomgyu. You’re in my apartment. Do you remember what happened to you?” he asks, eyebrows drawn together tightly.

Turning slightly, the boy pauses.

Then he turns right back to Beomgyu.

“No. Do you know what happened to me?” he asks, infuriatingly calm for all of the emotional rollercoaster rides Beomgyu had gone on throughout the evening.

“I found you in a dumpster outside this apartment building,” Beomgyu says, stressing the words, hoping that the weight of them would register to the boy.

Instead, the boy only blinks back at him.

“Oh,” the boy says, before turning towards the table.

“Oh?” Beomgyu echoes, confused. Was that all the other had to say?

A silence passes.

“Why did you help me?” the boy asks, finally.

“What do you mean ‘why did I help you’?” Beomgyu exclaims, eyebrows knitting together.

Frowning slightly, the boy stares into the distance, as if thinking. Then he turns back to him.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know how to phrase that in an easier way for you to digest,” he says.

Ears tinging pink, Beomgyu waves his hands about. 

“No, I know what that phrase means! I just meant…why would you think I _wouldn’t_ help you?” he asks, frowning.

“You don’t know me. We’re strangers. Helping me would provide no benefit to you,” the boy responds blankly.

Beomgyu looks down at the table, suddenly unsure what to do with his hands.

The boy was surprisingly blunt.

Somehow, he doesn’t feel comfortable telling the other that he had simply felt sorry for him— couldn’t let him die, while Beomgyu could return home to his warm apartment. He doesn’t want the other to probe further into it, or potentially make fun of his soft-heartedness. 

Thankfully, the other boy doesn’t press it, and instead leans forward.

“Did you prepare that for me?” the boy asks, pointing at the cup of water.

Turning to look at the cup, Beomgyu quickly nods, before bringing it over to the boy.

“I also prepared a hoodie for you, but I didn’t want to impose in case you were uncomfortable,” he points with a furrowed brow, as the boy takes the water cup.

Seemingly mulling the words over in his head, Taehyun takes a sip, before setting the cup down.

“Okay,” he says, looking directly at Beomgyu, as if expecting.

What?

Beomgyu stares back at him for a few seconds, before jumping to attention.

“Oh, right,” he says, before moving to get the hoodie, passing it to the boy. The boy takes it into his arms, before setting it down in his lap, staring at it.

“Aren’t you going to put it on?” Beomgyu asks. 

“I can’t,” the boy replies, without looking up, arms still.

Unsure what to do, Beomgyu stands there for a few seconds, before he realises why the boy must not be able to put the hoodie on.

His arms must be frozen still after being out in the cold so long.

Gingerly, he walks forward, before kneeling in front of the red-haired boy.

“Do you want me to put it on for you?” he asks gently.

To his surprise, the boy nods, seemingly unbothered with the invasion into his personal space.

Taking the hoodie in his hands, Beomgyu slowly lifts it over the boy’s head, before helping him pull his arms into the sleeves.

His arms are still cold— that’s the first thing that Beomgyu notices, but he also finds that they’re much less cold than they were before, when he had first found him. 

As he pulls the hoodie down from over the boy’s head, soft red hair falling down with it, he sees the boy watching him, and he stares back.

A moment of silence passes between them, before he turns away, embarrassed.

“So uh, you really don’t know what happened to you? What’s the last thing you can remember?” he asks, rubbing the back of his neck.

When he turns back, he sees the boy staring down at his new outfit, raising his hand and staring interestedly as his sleeve falls down his arm. 

Then he looks up, as if content.

“Nothing,” he says, plainly.

Blinking, Beomgyu stares back at him.

What?

“What do you mean nothing?” he asks, incredulous.

“The only memory I have is waking up here,” the red haired boy responds. 

Beomgyu stares at him again, as if waiting for the punchline.

It doesn’t come.

“I’m sorry, so you mean to tell me that you don’t remember a single part of your life before you woke up on my couch?” he asks.

As if hit by something, the boy begins to blink rapidly, before holding his head.

“No,” he replies.

Beomgyu stands there, unsure how to respond.

“What about your name? Do you remember that at least?” he asks.

Eyebrows furrowing together, the boy concentrates for a second, before looking up.

“Kang Taehyun,” he replies. 

Expression melting in relief, Beomgyu nods.

“Alright, that’s good. What about your friends or family? Is there anyone I can contact to come pick you up?” he asks.

Lips pursing, Taehyun huddles into himself for a second, before shaking his head.

“I don’t have anyone like that,” he says.

“Are you sure? Not even a college roommate?” he asks, searching the other’s eyes.

“I have a creator,“ the boy finally says, looking down.

Beomgyu blinks.

“A creator?” he asks.

Taehyun nods, lips pursing.

“The one who created me,” he replies simply.

“So…your parent?” Beomgyu raises an eyebrow, slightly confused.

“My creator,” Taehyun insists, before suddenly collapsing against the couch.

Rushing forward to catch him, Beomgyu runs a hand over his forehead, but doesn’t feel any particular temperature change. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, alarmed, before sitting him upright. 

The boy doesn’t say anything— only holds up his palm— and that’s when Beomgyu sees it.

Flashing right in the centre of his palm is a battery symbol, flashing red.

His eyes widen.

What?

Looking up at the boy, then back at his palm, he frowns. 

Was this an illusion? Or merely some sort of light projector?

Shaking his head, he knows that can’t be right— the boy had brought nothing with him.

“What’s that on your palm?” he asks the boy, slightly freaked out, turning it around to face him.

Looking down weakly, the boy’s eyes then flutter shut.

“I have to recharge,” he murmurs.

“Recharge? What does that mean? You need to sleep?” Beomgyu asks, becoming increasingly confused.

The boy slowly falls limp in his arms, and the light flashes out. 

Beomgyu stands there, eyes wide.

What had just happened?

Quickly leaning forward to listen for the other’s heartbeat to make sure that he’s still alive, he swallows when he finds that there’s none.

Oh god. 

Oh god had he just killed the boy?

What was he going to do? Should he call the police? Should he call his friends?

He sinks to his knees, staring at the supposedly dead boy in front of him, heart racing.

Was this really it?

Holding his head in his hands, he prays that it had all been a dream— that he really wasn’t responsible for the _death_ of some random kid, when all he had wanted was to come home from a long day of classes and go to sleep.

It had to be some kind of nightmare, right? It—

Slowly turning sideways to stare at the limp boy on his couch, his lips part.

No way.

Scrambling forward, he holds up the boy’s palm again.

Hesitantly, he touches the centre, and sure enough, it lights up again, like a touch screen.

Unlike before, there’s no colour, but the empty shell of the battery bar still remains, before slowly fading again. 

Was this real? Was he merely dreaming?

He thinks back to the boy’s strange words, and the way he had found him. 

The boy didn’t have a single memory before Beomgyu had found him— and yet somehow he knew his own name and the fact that he had a “creator”, whatever that meant. 

In fact, the entire exchange he had had with the boy had been strange, and even mechanical to some degree. 

It couldn’t be that…that the boy was some kind of robot could he?

Letting out a huff of laughter to himself, Beomgyu shakes his head.

No— while technology had advanced greatly, there was no way for such a _perfectly_ made specimen to exist, let alone be abandoned in some random dumpster.

The boy looked entirely human— moving flesh and blood, or at least had been before he passed out. Nothing like the strange android figures currently in the market, advertised as some sort of new information technology for the rich. 

So what was it?

Quickly, Beomgyu sets up his laptop and types in some search terms. 

“Newest android design,” he types first, before clicking on google images.

Unsurprisingly, all that come up are the strange robotic looking figures that Beomgyu doesn’t think he could look at comfortably even if he tried to, with stiff, plastic looking faces and equally stiff looking hair. 

He turns back to the boy lying on the couch, and his angelic beauty, and he frowns.

Breathing in deeply, he types again.

“Android features,” he tries, before clicking on a link to some sort of instruction manual.

He zooms in.

“Most androids can be identified by the battery symbol on their palms, which will light up with any human touch, regardless of whether they are out of battery,” he reads, running a hand through his hair.

So he _hadn’t_ killed the boy.

The boy just wasn’t human at all— he couldn’t _be_ killed.

Leaning back, he feels strange— doesn’t know whether to feel relieved or slightly embarrassed that he had acted in such a way in front of a being that didn’t even have real human emotions. 

And yet their conversation had seemed incredibly real. 

He can’t place his finger on it.

Scrolling through the manual to find out how he can recharge the boy— or should he call him Taehyun now? It was all so confusing— he finally lands on the relevant section of the manual.

“Each android model will have their own recharging abilities. Please refer to the relevant store of purchase for more information,” he reads.

With a groan, he falls back.

What was he going to do now? He couldn’t just go to whatever _store_ the boy came from— he had found him in a dumpster after all.

Biting his lip, he stares back at the boy, heart sinking.

Was he really not going to be able to help him?

Pulling his laptop back up, he searches again, clicking through the numerous links for anything that can help him.

But soon fatigue overcomes him, a combination of drowsiness from a day of classes, and the stress of the night’s events— and his eyes flutter shut, body falling against the table.

**

He wakes up to a stiff neck, and a blanket over him— he pauses for a few seconds, groaning, before he blinks awake— and comes face to face with large, hazel-shaped eyes staring back at him.

Scrambling back, black hair sticking up in all directions, Beomgyu holds a hand to his chest.

Right across from him sits the red-haired boy from last night, sitting primly on his knees, with his hands folded neatly in his lap.

He blinks back, undeterred.

“W-what happened?” Beomgyu asks, turning back and forth between his laptop and the boy in front of him. Had he somehow found a solution in his sleep…?

“Good morning. It’s currently 8:39am. I was able to recharge last night because of the water you offered me. I then helped myself to the food within your fridge to charge myself to full capacity,” the boy replies simply, holding out his palm.

Sure enough, all bars were filled green.

Blinking slowly, Beomgyu stares at him.

“That glass of water was enough to give you energy?” he asks, confused. He had sworn the other hadn’t drunk much, and that his battery had blacked out completely.

“Yes. All foods and liquids contribute to the maintenance of my energy status,” Taehyun nods. 

Slightly relieved, Beomgyu lets out a breath he doesn’t know he had been holding. Then, his mouth drops open, horrified.

“Half the stuff in my fridge is expired, though!” he gapes, leaning forward. As a busy college student, that was one of the many things he wasn’t able to constantly tend to— always buying snacks on campus, and stocking up on instant noodles.

So whatever the android— sorry, _Taehyun_ — had dug up to eat directly must’ve been long expired.

“All I require is sustenance of any kind, which I can convert into battery energy,” Taehyun replies easily, holding his hands out in a placating gesture. 

Beomgyu stares back, eyes wide. “How does that _work_?” 

“I consume it orally, like most humans do. Then I process it through my internal mechanisms,” the other responds simply.

Slowly, Beomgyu inches forward.

“So it’s true, then? You’re really an android?” he asks, in awe.

Cocking his head sideways, Taehyun merely blinks back at him, before nodding once.

“I- I never knew that androids were this advanced— I mean, you’re responding to my questions and everything! And you look just like a human! In fact, even better than most people I’ve ever seen, but—“ Beomgyu starts, before snapping his mouth shut, cheeks tinging pink.

“Sorry,” he says, holding a hand up to his face.

A silence passes.

“Why are you apologising?” Taehyun asks, blinking.

“I talk too much. Everyone always tells me I get easily excited, so feel free to tell me to shut up whenever,” Beomgyu waves his hands about awkwardly, staring down at the table. 

“I’m an android, Beomgyu-ssi. I don’t have the capacity to become annoyed,” Taehyun comments. Head snapping up, Beomgyu takes the words into consideration, before hanging his head down again. 

“I…right,” he replies, somehow even more embarrassed than before. Why was he messing up so much in front of a mere android? It wasn’t like the other was a real person, who cared what he was doing or thinking— no matter how scarily human he looked, with his large eyes and soft looking skin.

“You’re staring at me,” Taehyun notes, cocking his head. As if caught in the act, Beomgyu snaps his mouth shut, colour blossoming in his cheeks. 

“Sorry, it was just…you look…” he mutters.

Taehyun stares back, anticipating. The statement never comes. 

“You’re embarrassed,” Taehyun finally comments.

Beomgyu turns away, lips drawn into a tight line.

“I’m not.”

“Your face turned red when you brought up my physical characteristics, and your temperature rose,” the boy continues, and he quickly stands up.

“No, I— what’re you even doing here anyway?” Beomgyu shakes his head.

“We discussed this yesterday. You found me in a dumpster and I have no recollection of any of the events,” Taehyun responds.

“Right, but you mentioned some kind of creator right? Do you remember who it was, by any chance?” Beomgyu asks with a frown.

“Hm…no. It seems that I’ve been rebooted recently, so I have no recollection of anything,” Taehyun responds, shaking his head. 

“Oh,” Beomgyu says, face falling slightly. He takes a tentative seat on the edge of the couch.

“So…what happens now?” he asks, unsure.

A silence passes.

“You saved me that night, didn’t you?” Taehyun asks finally, leaning forward.

All of a sudden, Beomgyu isn’t sure how to react.

“I- all I did was bring you up to my apartment—“ he starts, before being cut off by the other.

“Then as I have no current owner, I will repay my debt to you,” Taehyun says, bowing.

Aghast, Beomgyu merely stares back at him, before shaking his head.

“No way! I didn’t do anything, seriously. Plus, now you have the chance to live your life freely. Haven’t you ever…haven’t you ever wanted to lead your own life?” he asks.

Blinking slowly, Taehyun stares back at him.

“No. The sole purpose of my creation was to serve,” he responds, tone flat.

“God,” Beomgyu mutters, running a hand through his hair.

“My name is Taehyun,” the red-haired boy frowns back. 

“No, I— sorry, that wasn’t what I meant. If I let you go now, would you be able to handle yourself? Is it possible for an android to live by themselves, hypothetically?” Beomgyu asks, furrowing his brows.

“I could technically function by myself for a period of time. However, if there are no specific tasks for me to do or commands to obey, I will most likely shut down, or fall into disrepair, as electronics tend to do. Further, I do not have the resources to sustain a life on my own,” Taehyun replies.

Beomgyu stills, unsure how to react.

So hypothetically speaking, even if he did release Taehyun into the wild to live his own life, things wouldn’t work out anyway. There was no moral obligation to ensure Taehyun’s “survival” either— especially considering that Taehyun wasn’t even sentient.

Still, looking forward into the other’s eyes, he can’t help but feel a crushing sense of guilt creeping into him. He couldn’t just leave the other to die, even if he was just an android.

Before he can say anything, his phone rings, and he startles.

He rushes over to pick it up.

“Hello?” Beomgyu asks, slightly out of breath.

“What do you mean, ‘hello’? You were supposed to be here half an hour ago, remember?” he hears the voice on the other side reprimand him, and his eyes widen.

Pulling the phone from his ear, he sees who it is, and almost curses.

It was Yeonjun, who he was supposed to have met that day, and he chances a quick glance towards the android.

“Right, yeah, sorry I’ll be there right away!” he promises, before hanging up.

Taking a deep breath, he rushes over in front of the boy.

“Listen, I have to go right now, but I need you to stay here until I come back, okay?” Beomgyu asks anxiously.

Pausing slightly, Taehyun knits his eyebrows together.

“Why?”

“Because if you go outside, you might get hurt. You said it yourself— you can’t function properly by yourself, and if someone manages to find out what you are, something might happen to you. I know it’s not ideal, but we’ll sort everything out once I get back,” Beomgyu replies, eyes soft.

Blinking, Taehyun finally nods.

“I will try my best to stay within the vicinity,” he responds.

At this, Beomgyu smiles, before rushing over to the bathroom to get ready, his mind entirely haywire.


	2. Chapter 2

“Why were you so late?” Yeonjun asks, unimpressed, as he circles his straw slowly through his drink.

Huffing, Beomgyu takes a moment to catch his breath, before wiping the sweat off of his brow. He looks up to see the other’s eyes shooting daggers at him, and decides to quickly look away.

“I had some things I had to take care of,” he replies as calmly as he can, setting his things down.

Raising an eyebrow, Yeonjun leans forward.

And stares.

“You’re a really bad liar, you know that? Spill,” he says, motioning his hand forward.

Groaning, Beomgyu leans back, berating himself for not having been ready with an excuse that would allow him to get away with the situation.

Because what was he going to say, exactly?

It’s not like he had anything else to do, and both of them knew that Yeonjun had the power to give him hell if he was ever late for any of their meetings.

“You have a girlfriend, don’t you?” the elder finally asks, leaning back, as if triumphant.

“What?” Beomgyu’s eyes widen in surprise.

“Or a boyfriend. Which is it? Because I never thought I’d see the day—” Yeonjun cackles wickedly, as Beomgyu turns red.

Thinking back to Taehyun, sitting primly in his apartment on his couch, looking like an angel sent from heaven, he swallows.

No— what was he thinking? Taehyun wasn’t his _boyfriend_. He wasn’t even a boy at all.

He felt bad even thinking about the other in that way, when he was clearly just carrying out his innate functions as an android. He wasn’t a thinking, feeling being at all— just a product of manufacturing and algorithms, which happened to align in the world’s most gorgeous being. 

With a scowl, Beomgyu looks down at the ground, pushing the other away.

“Get real. Do you really think I’d have the time?” he asks, knowing full well that he does, and that it definitely wasn’t his inability to properly connect with anyone that was stopping him.

Still, Yeonjun somehow chooses to ignore this, waving his hand airily about in the air as he leans back in his chair.

“Well, I suppose not _everyone_ can be as charming and gorgeous as me,” he says haughtily, to which Beomgyu lets out a snort.

“Sure. Then tell me why you still haven’t snagged that guy you’ve had your eye on yet? What’s his name…Soobin?” he asks, sticking out his tongue. 

Yeonjun splutters momentarily, before levelling a glare at the younger.

“He’s just shy, alright? I swear he likes me…or he’ll come to like me soon,” he argues.

“Does he even know you exist?” Beomgyu asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes!” Yeonjun insists.

Beomgyu stares for a few seconds longer.

“I think he saw me for a few seconds once when I passed by him at the bus stop,” the elder finally admits.

“Oh, you are _so_ whipped,” Beomgyu cackles, as the other fumes.

“Whatever. I’m still working on it, alright? Anyway, if I properly recall, you still owe me for being late,” Yeonjun scowls, making the younger snap his mouth shut.

“Fine. What would your royal highness like in return for my insolence?” Beomgyu decides to ask graciously, not wanting to get on the other’s bad side.

With a grin, the elder leans forward, eyes challenging.

“You have to buy me whatever I pick out, and then treat me to dinner,” he says, before throwing in a wink.

With an exasperated smile, Beomgyu almost agrees automatically— knows that it only takes very little to change the other’s mood, when he remembers that Taehyun’s still at home, and he pauses.

Would there be enough for the android to eat at home by himself? Or would he even care if Beomgyu stayed out without him, seeing as he wasn’t even sentient?

Biting his lip, Beomgyu rubs the back of his neck, before looking up apologetically.

“Actually, can we do dinner another time? I kind of have to…go home and do homework,” he says, the excuse sounding strange to even his own ears.

In confusion, Yeonjun cocks his head.

“Can I come over, then?”

“No!” Beomgyu blurts out instinctively, before covering his mouth.

Yeonjun’s eyes widen momentarily, surprised, before narrowing again suspiciously.

“Why not?”

“I…my apartment’s a mess. I broke my table the other day and still need to clean up the glass,” he replies weakly.

With a frown, Yeonjun stares at him for a few moments. 

“You’re a terrible liar, but I’ll let you get away with it. But you owe me two dinners next time, alright?” the elder rolls his eyes, before patting his cheek. Beomgyu smiles back gratefully.

“Let’s go.”

**

When Beomgyu comes home, exhausted and wrung out after a full day with Yeonjun, he throws his bags down on the couch, before craning his neck.

“Taehyun?” he calls.

When he receives no response, he frowns, before calling again.

Silence.

Walking into the main living room area, he looks around to see no sign of the android— not even an impression in the carpet, or any sign to indicate that anything’s out of place.

Turning around, he suddenly screams when he comes face to face with Taehyun’s wide-eyed face, staring right back at him.

He stumbles back, clutching his heart.

“God, you scared me!” he heaves, before taking in the appearance of the other— an apron over his body and a spatula in hand, coated in a thick, black tar-like substance.

He blinks.

“What’re you doing?” he asks, surprised.

“I’m learning how to cook,” Taehyun responds simply, before turning back around into the kitchen.

Beomgyu can only stare after him, trying to register the words.

Following quickly, he’s immediately met with the smell of smoke, and he almost gags at the pitch black sludge cooking in one of his pots.

“What _is_ that?” he asks.

“You didn’t have anything fresh, so I made do,” Taehyun points, before turning off the stove.

“I…Taehyun, I don’t think that’s edible,” Beomgyu starts, trying not to laugh.

Pausing, Taehyun turns back.

“Why not?” he asks.

“I mean…I think you might be able to handle it because you’re an android, but I think that might literally kill me,” Beomgyu shakes his head.

Setting the spatula down, Taehyun looks down at the tar, then back at Beomgyu.

He frowns.

“That’s not quite right, is it?” he finally asks with a sigh.

With a laugh, Beomgyu reaches out to place a hand on the other’s head, before giving his hair a gentle tussle.

“It’s okay— there’s a first for everything,” he says, before walking out of the kitchen.

The other quickly follows, wide eyed.

“What’re you doing?” Taehyun asks, eyes snapping between the other’s deft fingers and his bag, as he tries to dig out his phone. He blinks as the other retrieves it, entirely unbothered by the situation in the kitchen. 

“Well since there’s nothing edible in this house, we can just order in for tonight, and get groceries tomorrow,” Beomgyu murmurs, before unlocking his device.

“What do you want to eat?” he asks almost instinctively, like he would with any of his friends, before he remembers who he’s talking to, and he looks up.

Taehyun stands there, unblinking, his expression as smooth as an undisturbed pond.

“I'm an android. I have no preferences,” he finally responds.

Lowering his phone, Beomgyu considers the words for a moment, before grinning.

“Then it’s time I get you hooked on some real food."

Half an hour later, they sit around the table in front of the fireplace, unpacking boxes of fried chicken, pizza and galbi.

“You really eat all this?” Taehyun asks, frowning.

“Yep!” Beomgyu grins as he passes the other a soft drink.

“Cheers to our first proper meal together,” he says, to which the other stares back blankly.

“You’re supposed to raise your can.”

“Oh,” Taehyun says, springing to motion, before carefully raising his can to bump against Beomgyu’s own.

He watches carefully as the dark-haired boy gulps it down, and follows suit.

It fizzes strangely in his throat, but it’s interesting. He keeps it by his side.

“Alright, let’s feast,” Beomgyu smacks his hands together, before picking up a piece of chicken. To his surprise, it’s still hot— burning hot in fact, and he drops it almost immediately, making him wince. 

“You have to be careful,” he warns, before grabbing a tissue to wipe his fingers. 

But then he sees a flurry of movement, and looks up with surprise to see Taehyun pick it up with no problem, inspecting it with not so much as an inkling of pain, before opening his mouth wide to eat it. 

It’s strange, the way he unhinges his jaw slightly, but Beomgyu doesn’t say anything— somehow, it’s actually _cute_ , even though it was merely just a functional property of the other’s.

He quickly waves away the thought. 

“Is it good?” he asks instead, smiling.

At that, Taehyun takes a particularly large bite, gulping it all down in one go, before turning to face him. 

“I don’t have a sense of taste like humans do. But I’m not averse to it,” he finally responds, nodding.

At this, Beomgyu laughs, gently knocking the other with his elbow.

Taehyun pauses, as if slightly confused, but seemingly relaxes at the easiness in the other’s expression. He looks down, allowing a comfortable silence to wash over them. 

“So what did you do today while I was gone?” Beomgyu finally asks, after he’s had his fair share of food. He doesn’t know why he’s suddenly trying for small talk, but somehow he finds himself wanting to know more about the android.

Blinking thoughtfully, Taehyun sets down his piece of chicken.

“I sat down on the couch and waited for you to come home.”

Beomgyu pauses.

No follow-up sentence comes. 

“You…you did that all day?”

“No. Only until I tried to start preparing dinner,” Taehyun shakes his head, before picking his chicken piece back up.

Beomgyu stills, suddenly feeling awful.

“Is something wrong? You don’t look well,” Taehyun asks, eyebrows knitting together.

Beomgyu holds up his hand, stopping the other from moving.

“No, I’m alright. It’s just…you know you can go and do your own thing, right? Even if I asked you to stick around for a while,” he says with earnest.

He knows he’s being soft— revealing a side of himself that he would never be caught dead showing outside, but he wants to drive the point home; he doesn’t want to deprive Taehyun of his own freedom, android or not.

Taehyun actually considers this for a second, before nodding.

Beomgyu looks up, hopeful.

“I know. But you must remember I’m not human- I’m merely following my code,” is all he says.

Beomgyu stares at him for a moment, before breaking into a pitiful smile.

“Alright,” he replies, before taking a drink.

“Did...did you enjoy your day today?” Taehyun suddenly asks.

Surprised, Beomgyu raises his head, before realising that the other was probably just mimicking his own questions, rather than expressing an actual interest.

With a shrug, Beomgyu leans back slightly, recalling his day.

“It was alright. I went to see my friend Yeonjun,” he responds with a small smile.

Taehyun doesn’t respond— only seems to stare at him back, as if prompting him. Strangely, it gives Beomgyu a boost of confidence, and he slowly continues. 

“We went shopping, but uh…he spent the entire time complaining about his crush,” he finally breaks into a chuckle, not worrying about exposing the elder.

Cocking his head, Taehyun leans closer.

“What’s a crush?”

Beomgyu pauses momentarily.

“Huh? Oh, um…it’s something you call someone that you like a lot,” he replies slowly, words somewhat stilted. His fingers clench nervously around his soft drink can.

At this, Taehyun stares at Beomgyu, the light from the fireplace dancing in his eyes.

“Then are you my crush?”

Beomgyu’s heart stops.

“What?” he chokes.

“I like you. You saved me from dying,” Taehyun explains, before blinking.

Slowly, with a laugh, Beomgyu shakes his head. 

Right— of course that’s what the other had meant.

“No, no, it doesn’t work that way. It’s more like…you’re attracted to them and want to be with them romantically,” he explains, tucking a stray curl of dark hair behind his ear.

At this, Taehyun’s mouth opens in an ‘o’. 

“Do you have a crush, then?” he asks.

Face turning pink, Beomgyu chances a glance at Taehyun, before sighing.

“I don’t have a crush,” he responds.

“Why not?”

“Well I uh— I haven’t met anyone yet that I really like, so…” Beomgyu responds awkwardly, before berating himself internally. Why was he so nervous? It was just Taehyun asking.

The other nods, before pausing, as if thinking.

“Okay. What about Yeonjun?” Taehyun asks.

Beomgyu eyes bulge.

“What? Yeonjun hyung? No way- he’s just a friend. In fact, he’s almost the exact opposite of my type,” Beomgyu scrunches his face, placing a hand over his heart as if protecting his virtue.

The other only stares back at him, undeterred.

“According to various data studies, friends are usually the best candidates for dating partners,” Taehyun cocks his head. 

“Yeah, but hyung’s totally off limits. We’d get on each other’s nerves and that would most likely end in a double murder-suicide,” Beomgyu shakes his head, laughing.

Raising an eyebrow, Taehyun merely takes a sip from his soft drink can in response, head updating with new information.

“What about you, Taehyun?” Beomgyu finally asks, after a moment of silence.

“What about me?” the other responds blankly.

“What’s your type?”

Staring back at him, Taehyun pauses for a moment, before whirring.

“I’m an android, Beomgyu-ssi. I don’t have a ‘type’,” he responds. 

Beomgyu snaps his mouth shut. 

“Right,” he responds weakly, feeling embarrassed.

Why had he decided to ask that? It wasn’t like he was hanging out with his friends or anything— this was merely a talking robot that happened to look like…a friend. 

It was virtually the same as trying to make friends with Siri, or the voice on google translate; strange and quite frankly, mortifying, were the information to get out. 

_The loneliness must really be getting to you, huh,_ he thinks to himself in a daze, before looking down. He bites his lip.

“No need to feel embarrassed, Beomgyu-ssi,” Taehyun suddenly holds his hand up.

“I’m not embarrassed!” Beomgyu replies almost instinctively, before folding his arms. 

After a moment of silence, he turns back to the other, cheeks pink.

“You know you can…you can also just speak to me informally, right? How old are you?” he asks.

Concentrating, Taehyun thinks for a moment, before shaking his head.

“I don’t know. My physical appearance suggests I’m roughly eighteen to twenty, but my model type can’t be more than four years old,” he replies.

Beomgyu blinks.

“Oh. Wait, you can remember some information about yourself now?” he asks, baffled.

With a pointed look, Taehyun purses his lips.

“I can deduce certain information based on my physical characteristics, but I don’t _know_ anything other than my name and the existence of my creator. As for other information, I can extract data from the web easily, but not data regarding myself,” he responds plainly.

Taking in the information, Beomgyu waits there for a moment, thinking. Then he smiles sheepishly.

“Oh. Well you can just call me hyung then, since I’m older than you either way,” he responds.

Pausing slightly, Taehyun furrows his brows, clearly taken off guard, before nodding.

“I’ve committed that information to mind,” he says simply. Somehow, Beomgyu believes it.

When they finally wrap up their meal, they both spend time packing everything away, before Taehyun comes to a stop in front of Beomgyu.

He blinks, watching as the other opens his mouth.

“Earlier today, you stated we would “sort everything out” once you came back from your outing,” Taehyun says, hands folded neatly in front of him.

Frowning, Beomgyu suddenly remembers his words, before widening his eyes.

“Oh, right!” he exclaims, standing up straight.

It was true— he _had_ said that earlier, and he shouldn’t have been surprised that Taehyun, an android, had been able to remember that. 

But after spending the evening with the other, chatting and drinking away, he had developed a sense of familiarity with the other— to the point that it had merely felt a given that he would continue spending his days with the other.

Embarrassed, he stops himself. What if Taehyun didn’t even want to stay? What if he had merely been interacting with Beomgyu all along because it was written in his code to respond?

With a million thoughts buzzing around in his head, Beomgyu tries to take a seat on the couch, as a means of support. He then takes a breath.

“Of course I’d be happy for you to stay. I figured since you’re no longer bound to anyone, you could take however long it takes to gain all the resources and skills you need to to enter the real world. But if you wanted to leave immediately, I would totally understand, and I wouldn’t stop you either. In fact—” Beomgyu starts, before realising that the other isn’t cutting him off. He stops.

“Was that the end of the sentence?” Taehyun asks, eyebrows knitting together.

Cheeks flushing back, Beomgyu waves his hands about.

“No! I mean, I was just surprised you weren’t cutting me off, since I was talking so much,” he responds, embarrassed.

“I’m an android, Beomgyu-ss— Beomgyu _hyung_ ,” Taehyun corrects himself, before pausing.

“My job is to listen to you and your requests,” he finally finishes the sentence, after recovering from his earlier mishap.

Mouth drawn into a line, Beomgyu somehow feels a thousand times worse than he had before, having been reminded of the reality of the situation. 

At the same time, he’s strangely relieved, knowing that Taehyun had quite literally been made to hear him speak, and wouldn’t tell anyone else about his blunders and embarrassing habits.

But before he can say anything in response, Taehyun stands up.

“Data shows that the best chance of my survival will occur if I stay with you. So I will stay with you,” he says, with a certain tone of finality.

Beomgyu blinks, surprised by the sudden outburst.

Was he for real?

“Oh. Okay, well then…” he starts, but can’t find the words. Somehow, he doesn’t have to.

“Thank you,” Taehyun bows once, before walking and turning to face the wall without so much as another word.

Beomgyu stares at his back, bewildered.

“What’re you doing?” he asks slowly.

“I am staying out of the way so as to not disturb you. Is this bothering you?” Taehyun asks, voice muffled by the wall.

With a soft laugh, Beomgyu walks over and pulls him away from his position, to face him.

“You don’t need to stay out of my way, you know? Just move about how you want. We’ll be just like…just like roommates, yeah?” Beomgyu asks.

Taehyun’s eyes flash once, as if scanning something in his head, before he nods.

“As you wish. I have just finished reviewing over 25,000 pieces of media involving roommates, and how they behave,” he responds, before patting Beomgyu on the shoulder.

The elder jumps at the foreign touch, surprised. 

The hand is quickly removed though, before it returns back to its usual position in front of the android, folded neatly with the other. Beomgyu swallows, clearly flustered.

“Okay. Well, uh…in terms of where you’ll sleep—“ he starts, if only out of the need to have something to say, before the other interjects with a hand.

“Androids don’t sleep, unless you're referring to charging. This usually only spans around three hours,” Taehyun insists.

“Right. Then when you’re charging, are you okay with the couch? Or would you like to take the bed?” Beomgyu asks, nodding at the new information.

“The couch will do,” Taehyun nods once.

“Alright, well since it’s late, I’m going to brush my teeth and head to bed. But I’ll get you a blanket first, okay?” Beomgyu smiles.

“Okay.”

As Beomgyu walks away to get the extra blanket, he wonders to himself whether the other even needed it— but then he remembers the night before, and how Taehyun had almost turned blue from being exposed to the cold. 

He brings an extra thick blanket, just in case.

As he comes back into the room, he notes how unnervingly still Taehyun sits, not doing anything else, except waiting. 

_He’s an android, remember? Not real,_ he reminds himself, before taking a deep breath.

As he puts the blanket down, he watches as Taehyun suddenly animates, staring up at him from beneath his lashes, and he freezes, his heart skipping a beat.

“Hyung?” Taehyun asks, eyebrows knitting together, and it sounds so disturbingly human for a second, that Beomgyu doesn’t know how to react— how to reconcile the other’s stiffness from before, and his newfound way of acting.

“Here’s your blanket. There’s an extra toothbrush underneath the sink. Good night,” he says instead, trying to maintain a level voice, before virtually running out of the room.

As he climbs into bed, pulling his blanket close, Beomgyu tries to forget about all of it— the conversations, the fleeting touches— and to just let sleep pull him under.

But as he lies there, all he can think about is why on earth he had ever had trouble finding a connection, when his heart had skipped a beat just fine with someone that wasn’t even human.


End file.
